


Effort

by floosilver8



Series: Mollock Quips [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Chair Sex, F/M, First Dates, Science Experiments, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sushi, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floosilver8/pseuds/floosilver8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Technically a sequel to my other work, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1171135/chapters/2384399"><em>Things Happen</em></a> however, you don't need to read that beforehand. </p><p>This starts with Molly and Sherlock together, but it's still very early. Again, this fits with the canon sometime after Sherlock's been shot and recovered but before Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Effort

It’s been a few days since...that night. He had certainly been more affectionate toward her, but they hadn’t seen a lot of each other - just in the lab for brief moments. They had communicated more through txts and short calls before Molly went to bed. She usually initiated their correspondence but he always answered.

Sherlock had been quite busy with cases, and John moved back in to 221B. Molly wasn’t totally sure of the reasoning. Sherlock had been vague about it presumably out of respect for John and Mary. It was something about Mary lying about her past. Sherlock seemed certain they would work it out in due time so she wasn’t overly concerned. She was really tickled to be confided in by Sherlock for relationship matters. He really had changed. She supposed needing to fake your death, going underground for two years, and being shot would do that to a person.

It was around 2pm when she got the txt from him.

_“Need you to help me with an experiment tonight. –SH”_

Well that could mean anything. _“What sort of experiment? –x”_

_“Science! Meet me at 221B after work. Bring some clean Petri dishes and any spare severed ear you have available. –SH”_

She pulls a face at the fact that he is still quite demanding. Some things don’t change.

 _“Please? –SH”_ followed quickly after.

 _“Okay. Anything else? –x”_ she had to smile a little at his effort to be polite.

_“No, thank you. –SH”_

\----

She arrives at 221B Baker Street a little after 5pm. The summer sun is still trying to peak through the usual London clouds. She pushes the buzzer for “Holmes & Watson” but nothing happens. She tries the knocker instead. After a short moment Mrs. Hudson answers and happily lets her in.

“Oh, go right upstairs, dear. Be careful though, I don’t know what he’s been doing all day! Always makes such a mess. I’m going out in a moment to a friend’s. Bridge night. See you later, Molly dear!” and Mrs. Hudson disappears back into her own flat.

Molly trudges up the stairs to the now more familiar flat. The door to the kitchen is slightly ajar. A note stuck to it with a number 11 scalpel reads, “Science in progress. - SH” and underneath that, in smaller letters, “Molly, please disturb.” She grins to herself. Does Sherlock Holmes also have a sense of humor?

She opens the door slowly and looks around, “Sherlock?”

He’s sitting hunched over the table, which is littered with various scientific equipment and paraphernalia. He’s wearing proper goggles and Nitrile gloves for protection, but is clothed in just his blue dressing gown over pyjamas and nothing on his feet. It feels intimate to see him out of his usual street dress, but at the same time she inwardly chastises him for not being properly dressed while apparently working with chemicals.

“Come in, Molly. Just extracting some ‘control’ tissue samples for later.” She registers the vague mass of flesh on a dish before him. Probably part of the arm she had given him yesterday. “I need to document the transformations of human skin when exposed to different industrial-grade dyes and chemicals. I have the solutions all prepared here” he gestures to the small collection of jars in the middle of the table. “I need you to help me apply some of the solutions simultaneously.”

“Sounds like a fun evening. Here’s the ear.” She steps further into the flat, pulls out a small bio-hazard container from her bag and sets it on the table near the other flesh pieces. She also pulls out an unopened box of Petri dishes and sets it on the counter behind him.

He takes the ear container almost immediately, “Perfect! Needed cartilage. How old?”

“Came in this afternoon. Male, 46, car crash. Why aren’t we doing this at Bart’s?” She returns to her bag to pull out her spare lab coat and shrugs it on before grabbing for the box of gloves on the table.

“Very good” he finally looks at her and smiles broadly, completely ignoring her question.

They set out on the experiment, Sherlock dictating precisely how each sample is treated. They move quickly and very smoothly together. He even takes her suggestion for an additional test combination and seemed rather pleased with the result.

\---

An hour later they are finished and have even tidied up the kitchen. Sherlock seemed a little annoyed about having to do it at first. Molly, always the consummate professional, refused to leave a mess.

“Now what?” she asks, surveying the practically sparkling kitchen. “Are you hungry? We could get a take-away...or go out.” she gives his pyjama outfit a once-over. When he doesn’t respond she backtracks. “Or...not. I really shouldn’t stay if we’re finished. Have some things to...do.”

He looks at her pointedly while she speaks, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. “You Me Sushi” he blurts out. It doesn’t seem like a question.

“Wha-? Um, sushi? Sushi’s nice.”

“It’s the name of this place just around the corner. They deliver. Will you eat _nigiri_ or should I just order rolls? I’m not sure how you feel after cutting up human flesh. I did warn you off pork after an autopsy once, d’you remember?” he picks up his phone and taps at it rapidly while he speaks.

She smirks but doesn’t get a chance to reply as he turns around and begins to speak to the person on the phone in Japanese. A moment later he rings-off and faces her again briefly.

“It’ll be here in a few minutes. Can I fix you an aperitif?” He’s more animated than normal and doesn’t stand still for very long.

“Yes, that would be nice.” _What a pleasant surprise._ An actual dinner with Sherlock Holmes. Well, ordered-in anyway. But with fancy drinks? Seemed appropriately Sherlock. Selectively fussy.

He sets about with several bottles pulled from a top cupboard – something involving vermouth. When he finally passes her a glass he looks positively pleased with himself but his hands are still quite fiddly. “Cheers, Molly.”

“Cheers” they clink their glasses and she smiles at him. Whatever the drink was, it was delicious.

He sets his glass down and resumes moving about the kitchen, tidying but also getting out serving plates - and good chopsticks?! “White with dinner?” he’s not looking at her.

She can only smile and nod, this isn’t like watching him work at the lab. His movements are not as precise, he actually seems anxious. _But he doesn’t get anxious does he? Not the great Sherlock Holmes. He’s always in perfect control._

He apparently has not only purchased her favorite white wine, but also had it chilling before she arrived. He buzzes around the kitchen finding a cork screw and glasses.

She sips her drink and watches him move, amused by his apparent and uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. _Could this...relationship...possibly last?_ Surely he’d get bored with her eventually. That would hurt, but it would be a fun ride in the meantime. There’s always a chance _anyone_ would get bored with you. There’s never a guarantee – even among “normal” people. Was she even a “normal” person? She certainly tended to be the outsider amongst her group of friends. It didn’t bother her in the slightest.

The loud knock on the door below rips her from her thoughts. Sherlock’s still busily fumbling with the wine. “Can you go down and get it?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Oh, sure.” She grabs her wallet from her bag before heading down the stairs. _Never read too much into anything Sherlock Holmes does, Molly._ She answers the door and accepts the surprisingly large bag of food. “How much is it?” she asks with a smile to the delivery guy.

“Taken care of, Miss.”

“What? Oh. Umm here, please” she moves to push a tenner into his hand as a tip.

“No, no, Miss.” the delivery guy pushes the bag at her and backs off the stoop, “Mr. Itou sends his thanks to Mr. Holmes again. Good evening.” He smiles and walks back toward Marylebone Road. She stares after him for a second but soon turns back into the foyer, closing the door behind her.

Mrs. Hudson’s light is off, she must have gone out. Molly begins to climb the stairs and slowly notices soft music playing. A few more stairs and she registers that it’s coming from Sherlock’s flat. On the landing she realizes that the lighting in the flat has changed. The light over the kitchen table is off and there are two lit candles on the table along with proper place settings.

“Sherlock?” He’s doing something by the counter but she can’t take her eyes of the candles on the table. He’s still in his pyjamas but somehow he looks more stylish than most men in a tuxedo. _Hmm...Sherlock in a tux. NO! Focus, Molly!_

“Please, sit.” he says when he turns around to take the bag of food from her hands. He pulls her chair out for her before returning to the counter. He makes himself busy unpacking the food.

She just watches him move around and organize things, trying to catch his eye when he turns to occasionally set something on the table.

“Sherlock,” she finally says when he sits down, “what is...this?” Her tone is soft but pointed. She smiles at him warmly, waiting.

He pours wine for them both and doesn’t look at her. His jaw noticeably clenches before he swallows and says, “Effort.”

Effort? ... _Oh my god._ Suddenly it dawns on her, the experiment at home, the unexpected food, music, and candles. “Sherlock, did you...plan this? Is this our first date?” She doesn’t want to ask inane questions, but she needs confirmation.

He sets the bottle down and finally looks up at her with his steel blue eyes but he doesn’t hold her gaze long, “Is it...not good?”

She registers the worry in his tone. “Oh, Sherlock,” she grasps his hand across the table.

“John said he always made sure dates involved an activity he knew his date liked. The experiment was just the first part. After we eat you can pick a DVD to watch.”

 _Sherlock Holmes wooed me with science!_ She lets out a small laugh, “First date with Sherlock Holmes. Science, sushi and snogging on the couch.” His eyebrows rise sharply, still questioning. “Best date ever.” She grins at him. He smiles at his plate before offering her the sushi rolls.

He’s picked quite a nice selection of food. She tries to sample everything but eventually says she just can’t lift another chopstick full to her mouth. They admit defeat and give up trying to finish it all off. She helps him clear the table of empty containers and consolidates the remainder of the food in a few boxes. She grabs a pen from the cup on the counter and writes, “Safe to eat” followed by the date, on the boxes before putting them into the fridge.

When she closes the door he’s standing right behind it. He practically pounces on her, causing her to take a few steps back. He’s kissing her fiercely for the first time that night, pressing his whole body against hers. She wraps her arms tightly around him. They spend several moments just snogging. When they come up for air he presses his forehead against hers, “Are you enjoying the evening so far?”

She smirks, “Oh, yes. The last 60 seconds were particularly rousing.”

“Hmm. Interesting. Dr. Hooper prefers oral stimulation over intellectual and/or gastronomic stimulation. Noted,” he’s teasing. He grins down at her, cupping her face in his hands.

She smiles at his jest, leans in close to his ear and whispers, “Dr. Hooper also prefers manual stimulation.”

A tremor ripples up his spine and he exhales slowly, “Interesting.” He caresses her back and suckles on the crook of her jaw. His hands knead her body and his mouth works over her neck and clavicle. “Like this?”

She just gasps and lets out small throaty moans “Oh. Yes.” Her hands wind into his hair and grab at as much of his body as she can reach. She pushes her hips into him, inviting. He moans and pushes back. She drops her hands to his waist and starts to walk backward, pulling him toward his bedroom.

“Wait, I have an idea” he breaks away from her grasp and catches her wrist to lead her into the sitting room. He’s positively pleased with himself when he stops in front of “his” chair, and whirls around to face her. Without a word he plops down in the chair, still holding onto her wrist, which pulls her slightly awkwardly forward. She practically falls into his lap but he catches her gracefully in his arms. “Yes, this will do wonderfully” he says with a gleam in his eyes before catching her lips with his mouth again.

Suddenly she gets it. “Out here? Is it safe?” She wants to push herself away a bit but she never could help herself around him.

He nuzzles his face into the side of her head and kisses her neck tenderly, “We’ll be perfectly undisturbed. John’s in Brighton on a case. I’ll solve it tomorrow before breakfast. It was only a five or six.” With his arms wrapped tightly around her, he shifts his hips a bit to rub his quickly-growing erection against her bum.

She lets out an amused gasp and smirks, “Hmmm. Feels like an eight or a nine from here.” They both giggle softly.

His fingers dig into her and he bites at her neck causing her to gasp again. She twists free of his grasp, standing up in front of him with a wicked grin on her face. His face falls from the loss of her and he actually whimpers. He lets out a desperate gasp when she starts to slowly take her clothes off. He watches hungrily as she unbuttons her blouse, unzips her trousers, then shrugs and wiggles everything off.

His thin pyjama bottoms are hiding nothing. He’s absolutely tenting. She’s still in her bra and pants as she leans over him to tug on his waistband and reveal his erect member. She sinks to her knees between his legs, runs her hand over his chest, holding him in place as she uses the other hand to palm and tease him.

It thrills her to see him likes this. He clutches at the arms of the chair as she kisses and licks at the tip, his cock throbbing with her movements. She strokes him and takes his full-length in her mouth, swirling her tongue and twisting her stroke gently as she pulls up. He’s not going to last long like this.

He clutches her upper arms and pulls her up and off. “Good. But not like this.” he whispers against her mouth. His hands are quick to unclasp her bra and tug down her knickers. She staggers a little stepping out of them. He steadies her with one hand that starts trailing down the back of her thigh. “Get up here.” He grins wickedly and pulls her leg toward the arm of the chair. He pats the other armrest gently and she understands what he wants.

She holds herself up by grasping the back of the chair and straddles him with one leg draped over each armrest. He helps steady her legs and get comfortable. Never in her life has she been in such a gymnastic and wanton position. She’s completely spread before him. She bites her bottom lip as he sinks down into the chair to level his face with her sex.

A croaky gasp leaves her throat as he begins to slowly lick her folds. “Sherlock. Jesus.” She pants and gasps as he explores and experiments with suction, pressure, and speed. He pays a lot of attention to her clit which results in Molly quaking above him. “Fuck, Sherlock.” It’s too erotic. She can’t hold it together. She grips the back of the chair with white knuckles, squeezes her eyes shut as the waves of pleasure start to wash over her. He clutches her bottom as she rides through it. She’s gasping incoherently and then trying not to collapse entirely on him.

He helps her climb down from the arms of the chair, nuzzling his face into her breasts and then neck when she settles into him. She kisses his face passionately, tasting herself in his mouth. Her hands grasp at his head pulling him toward her. Her climax was huge but she’s not done yet. She rolls her hips and grinds down on his pelvis. He can only let out a breathy groan between passionate, hungry kisses.

“Fuck me now, Sherlock.”

He groans and pumps his hips up. “Wait, shit,” he gasps out, “condom.”

She smiles into another kiss. _Sherlock Holmes, responsible adult._ “Where?”

“Under poor Yorick.”

She pulls back abruptly to give him a surprised but amused look and points at the skull on the mantle. She pops up to retrieve their friend.

He whips off his clothes while he can and takes the packet from her when she returns, ripping open the foil and rolling it over his rigid cock. She settles back to straddling him and he wraps his fingers around her hips as he enters her. She holds herself up a little as they find a rhythm. Slow at first with increasing speed. She alternates between throwing her head back and dipping it forward to bury her nose in his hair. He buries kisses into her breasts while they pump and move and ride together. She hugs his head and loses herself in him. She could do this all night. She wants to be like this - with him - forever.

Maybe it’s the candle light. Maybe it’s the eroticism of their position. Maybe it’s the quick turnaround from her first orgasm. But she’s on the verge of coming again. “Yes! Sherlock!”

He’s audibly grunting as he ruts into her. He can feel her muscles tightening and pumps harder, faster, deeper. She’s over the edge and he’s right there too, losing control of himself just for her. Their fingers dig into the other’s body as they ride it out, and catch their breath. “Fuck. Molly. You’re amazing.” he whispers into her chest. His brain is fuzzy. All he’s thinking of is her, the feel of her in his arms.

Eventually they disengage so they can clean up. She has to stretch her legs feeling like she just performed acrobatics. He picks up his dressing gown and wraps it around her, kissing her deeply again.

She agrees to spend the night. He can’t stop smiling as he watches her pick a DVD to watch. They put in John’s _Fellowship of the Ring_ but they don’t really watch it. They kiss and caress and turn it off when the discs need to be changed. They paw at each other and stumble to his bedroom for a long night of not really sleeping.

\----

Molly wakes up alone in Sherlock’s bed. She can hear shuffling in the kitchen and smell coffee brewing. She wraps his dressing gown around her naked body and pads down the hall into the kitchen.

“Well, that was disappointing. The butler did it. How cliché.” He’s standing at the counter with his laptop propped on the worktop. He’s wearing pyjama bottoms and nothing else. He keeps scrolling through whatever’s on the screen and doesn’t look at her. “It was only a four after all.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, and walks over to him, placing a hand on his arse, “Still looks like an eight or a nine from here.”

“Thanks for that confirmation, Molly” John’s disembodied voice comes out of the computer. “Never Skyping a case for you ever again, Sherlock.”

_Oh shit!_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I didn't plan on making a sequel after [my first Sherlolly](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1171135/chapters/2384399) \- and certainly not this quick. I'm not sure how many of these little short, quirky fics I'll do. But we do have to fill the hiatus with something, don't we?


End file.
